


A Promise Written in Blood

by DarkmoonBoar



Series: Tumblr Dark Souls 3 Drabbles [2]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: Assassination, Murder, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Dark Souls 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 04:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonBoar/pseuds/DarkmoonBoar
Summary: Before the timeline of Dark Souls 3, Adrian goes out to eliminate a mark. You know, just another day as a Vinheim clandestine scholar.





	A Promise Written in Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from my RP blog on tumblr

Disrobing of his Clandestine uniform silently in the comfort of his dorm, Adrian stood before his dresser, complete with a mirror he had to stand back in order to properly see his entire body. He began to put on more pedestrian clothes, first slipping his bare legs through the pants of some rather plain looking beige trousers. He then followed with an off-gray tunic that tied with laces at the neck and a white jacket with hidden pockets. Ordinarily, the assassin wouldn’t bother wearing such a boring and _terrible_ outfit, but it proved far more inconspicuous than the very distinct clothing required out of the headhunting scholars of Vinheim’s Dragon School. When he grabbed his old boots from home, he sat down on his surprisingly comfortable bed and pulled them on.

The sorcerer took his paired daggers from atop his dresser and slid them into the pockets of his jacket. After sliding on a belt, he attached his catalyst on a loop. It would be a chilly autumn night, and on the equinox as well. Aristocrats and other such ‘important’ people would be hosting balls.

A perfect time for a kill. These days, instead of an intense feeling of dread and nausea, he felt a sort of excited energy that kept him alert, that made him unable to keep still. The young man could hardly wait until he saw red.

_The mark will likely be out on his balcony. Don’t do anything that will draw suspicion. Just watch closely like you’re supposed to, even if you’ve been observing him for a while._

Now, he couldn’t exactly enter through the main entrance, but it wouldn’t be too much of a fuss climbing up the side of the building where no one be watching. The manor was big, and most of the guests would be concentrated in that one area.

True, his height made him stick out, but he didn’t plan on letting the man see him, and he planned to leave soon after. What kind of Vinheim sorcerer would he be if he couldn’t use aural spells to his advantage? No one see him, no one would hear him. Under normal circumstances, leaving after curfew, and in clothing that violating the student dress code at that, would be unacceptable, but he carried a small letter with him that gave a vague explanation. But really, everyone in the academy knew what it meant, and no one could say anything when he was working for _them_.

It was in his school contract. Adrian couldn’t afford tuition otherwise, and thus whenever his assigned instructor gave him written instructions on a new mark, he did it, no question.

As he left, he grabbed a packet of rotten pine resin and locked the door. Walking heel toe, heel toe through the quiet, dark blue hallway, he wondered if he’d see his roommates out there. The change of the season always meant that students would break curfew to attend to evening events, and the university mostly ignored it as long as the students didn’t break the law.

With the exception of the clandestine sorcerers of course, but the trick was to **_not get caught_**. Being found meant that you were sloppy, and sloppiness didn’t befit an assassin.

As he made his way across the city to the noble district in the cloudless night, his jaw length hair bobbed against his face. Sighing, he wished he had tied the front back when he was still in the dormitory. Still, it bothered him relatively little, and wouldn’t distract him from his work. As he took in the sights of the grand manors with few lit windows but numerous shapes wandering around on balconies and great halls, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of envy at being born with a silver spoon in one’s mouth. True, he had attended these parties himself, blended in seamlessly in with his charm and his sartorial dress and good looks, but that didn’t mean he belonged to their world.

And he didn’t want to, either.

Gritting his teeth, he spotted his goal down the cobblestone street. Aristocrats, dressed all posh, wandered the streets, paying little attention to him despite his garb. It wasn’t unusual for students to attend the events, and it wasn’t unusual for nobles to hire servants. As long as he acted like he belonged on this side of the city, no one would question him.

_This is it. Looks so much different with the windows lit up at night._

Taking a deep breath, Adrian cautiously ambled around the side, waiting until he felt certain no one would see him climb up the side. Deftly slipping his staff out of his belt loop, he waved it overhead, producing a quiet humming noise as it enveloped his boots in a pale blue glow. Not only would it muffle the noises he made, it would also dampen his falls. And for someone climbing up two stories, such spell found great and judicious use.

Carefully, he climbed the ivy-laced lattice on the side, as swiftly as he could manage without losing his footing or handle. Once he made it to a window, he easily managed to pry it open using the blade of out of his daggers. Slipping inside the aperture, he found himself in a dark room, likely just a storage room given random furniture filled it. He prudently closes it behind him, and makes a mental note to return to this room in order to escape later. As he made his way to the other side of the room, he put his ear to the door to listen for any footsteps of guards that might be patrolling the floors and rooms of the building that currently weren’t in use.

Nothing.

Didn’t mean he could consider himself in the clear.

Slowly, he turned the door knob, and peaked out from the small gap in the door. Noting no detectable movement, he opened it enough so he could turn his head towards the blind spot created by the door.

_Not a single thing on this side, either._

Adrian emerged out of the door and into a dim and uncomfortably still hallway. Even in the poor lighting, he could see looking glasses and paintings on the wall, with the occasional small statue at corridor intersections and ends. As he neared the path towards the stairs down, he head the heavy footsteps of boots. Without so much as panicking, the assassin backtracks slightly to a split in the hallway and hides behind a corner.

As he peaks his head out slightly, he sees the distinct blue beam of light from an enchanted lantern that gave off no toxic smoke. Adrian slides further backwards in order to avoid being spotted by the guard making their rounds. His heart drummed in his ears once the beam of light shines down the corridors in front of him. Silently, he hopes (not prays; Vinheimians were very rarely religious) that they don’t turn it in his directions. _Clunk clop clunk clop._

The guard passes by without so much as pivoting their head in his direction.

Letting out a breath as quietly as he can, Adrian waits until he can no longer hear the steps of the guard’s boots before turning the corner in the direction they came from. Of course, he makes sure to check for another before committing to the stairs. Detecting no other guard, the mage slunk down the stairs, taking the same kind of vigilant steps to avoid the sentries.

Unlike the last floor, candles illuminated half of it in gentle golden light. The smell of the candles wafted in his direction from a breeze likely brought in from the balcony. Still wary, he carefully glides down the hall, watching for any guards that might chastise a guest for wandering in the dark parts of the story, clearing indicating it off limits. Maybe it wouldn’t be enough for him to get booted, but that sort of suspicion wouldn’t do him any well.

After checking and finding no other guard wandering around, he saunters on to the well lit areas of the floor. As long as he could find that damnable gray eyed, blond haired, weak chinned, short bastard within the next ten minutes, he wouldn’t have to worry about using his staff again to renew his aural spell. While striding towards the light, he began to hear the soft rumbles of conversation. Ordinarily, he would avoid it, but given he would have to locate his mark, it would be best for him to find a spot he could eavesdrop or, even better, look on from without making himself evident.

He went to go sit on one of those cushioned benches in the far corner nearby and listened to them. A tall potted fern put him just out of view.

“They approved my grant to investigate those ruins about halfway between us and Astora. Didn’t take much persuading when I waved around a restored scroll and told them it was dated from before the last two cycles.”

Though Adrian really didn’t care why he had been assigned this mark, he could only assume a jealous rival had been responsible. Money is money, after all, and he wasn’t in the position to be picky. Anyways, the more he worked his job, the more he found himself despising the people he killed. All of them were petty academics, caring more about their Ivory Tower and their money and their squabbles more than the lives they trampled in their pursuit of Knowledge.

Not that he had noble ideals in mind; it just gave the assassin even more motivation to just twist the knife in as deep as possible. Luckily, impartiality wasn’t a requirement for his job; no one cared about your connections to marks or your political beliefs as long as you were successful.

_I might not make my parents proud but they can’t deny I didn’t reach for my dreams._

The other scholar patted him on his shoulders, and excused himself to go get more wine. His steps on the marble were quick yet slightly clumsy, and went on by looking past the sitting assassin. And then, his mark was alone, except for _his_ company. Thus, he carefully took out both of his daggers and applied the poisons to the end of the blade as he watched for the man to turn his back to him.

It was in the silence he appreciated just how beautiful the night was, between the brightness of the moon, the brisk air, and the energy buzzing about. Adrian smiled sadly, wishing to himself he had someone to spend it with after. Someone to sneak into their dorm or house or whatever and surprise them. Someone to spend all night with in bed, not even necessarily having sex but touching each other in affectionate ways delightfully unknown to him.

As soon as his target began to turn and walk towards the railings of the balcony, the lanky yet graceful assassin stood up with a slow and eerie confidence, his face becoming remarkably stony and blank. With long, swift steps, he made his way behind the scholar, clutching at both of his poisoned daggers. Several steps, then a few steps, then precious inches between them, then _none_ as he shoved the blades, inches apart, in between ribs to puncture both lungs simultaneously.

The best part, as his mark suffocated on his own blood, he would be unable to take breath to sound an alarm.

As his mark collapsed onto the ground breathlessly, with a sadistic smirk Adrian turned on his heels, marching out with his head held high as if he had done nothing wrong, with all the nonchalance of a killer. It would take about three minutes or so for the man to finally die, and he cared not to speed up the cold and terrible agony of a death like drowning. He could feel those gray eyes on him, glazing over as he struggled to stand as his breath was literally taken away by his sliced lungs. Just the thought his mark suffered those three minutes terrified and helpless would both please him for days.

It didn’t haunt him anymore. Not between the sex and the wine.

As he wound his way back, he decided on the way back, as he wiped off his bloodied daggers, he’d find some handsome noble to bend over in the bushes of some snob’s estate.


End file.
